Ze Professor's Assistant
by The What-If Writer
Summary: Sequel to 'Mechanical Poise' and 'Ze Professor's Old Things' This is what happens when the Panther King thinks too much. Contains OC. One-Shot.


_I have no idea where this is going. Please review!_

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The Professor's Apprentice 

The guard weasels didn't usually encounter their fellow long-faced mammal that much. Not many weasels remained around the place; there seemed to be less and less all the time. Some survived in groups such as the Weasel Mafia; led by the slimiest yet shortest of the lot. Knowing how he killed off his henchman at the slightest thing, the numbers probably had gotten even lower since the last time they saw that bunch.

That had been a while ago. The tall guard weasel surveyed the hallway, the old walls and grubby carpet. It was soft on the feet though; better than the throne room where they had to stand at the side, away from the toasty torches that lit the place and the soft carpets. The Panther King had preferred his own company today, he and his milk only.

Beside him, his shorter companion was readying some marbles, finding it hard to bend over his plump paunch. Beside him sat a scrawny short-snouted weasel youth, who was poking the bright marbles curiously, his oversized hat slipping down his head a bit.

"Kinda quiet, now." The Tall Guard Weasel commented, looking down the hall. Indeed, the silence was quite heavy. The smallest weasel looked up at him, nibbling on his lip, curling his feet closer to himself where he sat. Their plump friend finished setting out the marbles and looked up at him, slowly,

"It's always been quiet, you stupid pratt." He said in a slow, almost moody voice. The smallest weasel blinked at them both.

"M-maybe it's because the Professor isn't working on anything."

They listened. Indeed, they couldn't hear him ranting to himself. The tall weasel tapped his nose thoughtfully, "Maybe he fell inta one of those acid vats..."

"Or jammed his chair in the door..." Their plump friend suggested. The smallest weasel hoped they weren't verging on making fun of him- there was a reason they stayed clear of his lab, after all.

The Tall weasel sat down, the plump one next, and they began playing their game quietly. The Tall weasel never usually put his flag-spear down, but he did for now, keeping it close. The smallest weasel's turn came after the shortest one's, and he'd just been about to roll his green marble when a suddenly crashing noise made them all start.

The three stared down the hall. In the distance, loud, shrill swearing reverberated off the walls.

"_...knew I should have done zat! Vhose idea was it to put the vile there?, oh it vas mine! Oh __**Sh-t!**__"_

The Tall Weasel slowly turned his head to the other two, remarking in a low, raspy voice. "...Should we 'elp?"

"Nah." The plump one mumbled. The young one didn't know what his reason for saying this was- be it laziness or just for the sake of saying no, but he agreed. Soon the Professor's alarm would turn to anger, and even if it was his own fault, he'd seek out something to take that anger out on.

"_Vhat is this? Pepp-ar? VHAT THE F**K IS PEPPER DOING IN HERE, VHAT-"_

The three weasels heard the distinctive noise of shattering glass. The Tall Weasel shrugged slowly, "They he 'e got a degree in science for bein' enthu-si-astic..."

"Where'd he get a degree?" His pump friend muttered quietly. The smallest weasel found his comment was out of his mouth before thinking,

"At gunpoint."

It took the other two a few moments to register that, and they stared ahead for a few seconds in silence. Then, the Tall Weasel let out a wheezy giggle.

"He knows his stuff, though." The chubby weasel said, "I can't ever keep up." The Tall one nodded despite his giggle,

"Serious science-y stuff, yeah."

The small weasel rubbed his nose gently, thoughtful. A curious expression came over his face as they continued listening to the faint ranting of the Professor. He wasn't calming down anytime soon. He'd encountered the elder weasel a few times, each being closer to his death than the next. Each time he'd managed to wiggle away from dying just by a hair. Why the Professor hadn't maimed him that last time was beyond him.

Another smashing sound echoed around the castle.

"...There goes the water-cooler."

"An' I was just fancying a drink..."

"_Guards."_

A deep, slow, throaty voice suddenly made them jump. The three sprinted instantly to its source, leaving their marbles behind. Judging by the yelling down the hall, the Professor was losing even more of his own.

The Panther King was, as always, leaning back in his throne, giant and refined, and staring down at the guards in what felt like slow-motion.

The two adult weasels saluted quickly, the smallest hurrying along to join them, his helmet slipping down in front of his eyes.

"Gentlemen." The Panther drawled slowly, waving a hand, again, slowly. They bowed as low as their backs would allow.

"What is your bidding, sire?" The Tall Weasel said in his hiss-like voice, nose nearly knocking against the carpet.

"I have been...thinking." The Panther gave his chin a slow tap, eyes averted. They weasels looked up at him curiously.

"About what, sire?" The Tall Weasel asked quietly, glancing at his two companions uncertainly. The King looked back at them with those deep, feline eyes and the three quickly looked down again,

"The Professor...tends to work...slowly when he is bothered." He remarked, ironically in a very slow-paces sentence.

"..."

In the background, the smallest weasel was very sure he could hear something like '_I'm going to vind whoever put zis pepper here and shove it down zeir throat!' _being yelled, alongside a chorus of curses.

"You have a point there, sire." The Tall Weasel remarked with a nod, to which the smaller weasel and the plump one both followed in doing.

"So...I reckon...that if he is slower...the more time it'll take to get my milk..." The blazing eyes of the Panther where upon their spindly forms, and suddenly they looked threatening rather than deeply thoughtful, "And you know...what that could mean."

Oh, dear God no.

"Y-yes Boss, duct tape..." The Tall Weasel stepped back again, fumbling with his hands.

"Yes." The Panther said, leaning back and placing his giant paws together, "And we...don't wan that..."

"No, no..."

The Plump Weasel exchanged an uneasy look with him, the Young Weasel again confused. He didn't dare ask what had happened, but he really didn't want to find out.

"...So...there should be a way...to make him work faster." The Panther King mused- he'd clearly been giving this some thought. Maybe that was the reason for him spending so much time alone in his throne-room lately. Without his milk to distract him, he'd focused all his mind on that.

"Do you have an idea, Sire?" The Tall Weasel ventured uneasily. The Panther, to their surprise, tilted his head,

"...As A matter of fact...I do..."

Usually he got the Professor to do that for him.

"...Go and get him, if you please..."

The Weasels stared at each other, a silent game to try and determine who would go to the crazed scientist during one of his raving episodes. The Tall Weasel nudged the Youngest back, looking expectant.

The Young Weasel stared back at them miserably, forcing his legs to carry him out the throne room, and down the hall.

The lab was cluttered, more so than the last time he'd seen it- clearly the Professor had been working on something, and he had a feeling it wasn't anything to do with tables.

The lamp above was swinging violently and a pile of pepper lay on the dank floor; surrounded by shattered glass. The Professor was pacing- or the hovering chair equivalent of it- back and further along the side of his worktable, muttering away. He didn't notice the smaller weasel poking his nose through the door.

"...Always having to do stupid vittle things, zhat's all I do, alvays making sure that ass of a wild cat is happy-" He said a few phases that made the young weasel cringe a little. He slipped through the heavy old door, careful to avoid he pile of pepper. But then, his nose caught a whiff- and to his horror, he felt a sneeze coming on.

"Now I must deal vit _pepp-ar? I'm f-cked if I'm going to be-"_

_"Achoo!"_

The Professor froze, stiff, and every bone in the young weasel's body turned into noodles. He gripped his helmet tight in his paws as slowly, very slowly, the chair spun around to face him, the mismatched eyes of the Cyborg Weasel locked on him like a sniper's rifle.

_"You."_

The small guard weasel gulped loudly, "Uh-, h-hello, Professor, s-sir..."

Slowly, the chiar advanced towards him, the scientist's look building fiercer and feircer by the second. The younger saw this and spoke quickly before he could get to him,  
"It's the K-King, Sir, he w-wanted me to come get you!"

The Scientist, to his great relief, stopped, his organic eye widened. Then, his gloved hand smacked heavily against his maimed face, and he shook his head,

"Zere is alvways someting...you know vhat he's like..." He appeared, the younger realized, to be speaking to himself- for a second later he was glaring again, sneering down at the guard.

"Vhell. Ve shall see vhat he wants."

The younger weasel quickly moved out the way so the floating chair could move by him, out the door, electric sparks emitting from the antenna drawing the door open like a magnet would metal. He hurried after him, slightly in awe of what the chair had just done, but said nothing of it. He didn't dare meet the eye of the Professor.

However, the scientist stopped him from opening the door, waving a dismissive hand. The guard tilted his head, and blinked as the Professsor smooth back his hair, perhaps to look like he hadn't just been ranting his head off. "Make a good entrance, alvays."

The sparks sizzled from the antenna, almost on cue to his words. He nodded at the younger weasel, who took that as the signal. He pushed open the heavy doors.

The hair hovered in, and he followed quickly, shutting the door behind them with an audible clink. The other guard weasels eyed him, though didn't dare speak. He hurried over to re-join them, some feeling coming back into his body. He'd made it out alive.

"Ah...Professor. Good Day."

The three weasels didn't miss the dark look that passed over the Scientist's lean face, but it slipped past the Panther easily. The cyborg tilted his head,

"You vanted to see me, My Liege?" He spoke in a pleasant, oily voice. It made the young weasel's skin crawl.

"Yes...I have been thinking...you tend to work...slowly..." The Panther Kina had probably uttered the worst insult possible he could to the Professor; his organic paw tightened around the joystick on the arm of his chair dangerously, and he drew a long, unsteady breathe.

"So...I found...a solution." The Panther seemed quite confident, even proud of himself a little. The scientist looked perplexed; not a usual thing for him. He hadn't been expecting his when he'd been dragged from his work,

"I see...and vhat is that, My Lord?" The young weasel didn't miss how forced the last words sounded. If anyone else had dared speak to this scientist like this, they could forget about living.

"Indeed...you should have an assistant..." The Panther King raised a clawed finger to this point. The weasels blinked, looking around at each other. The Professor's face was caught between a sneer and a curiously raised brow.

"Vell, I do not think zat is necessary My Leige..." he said quickly, a hand raised in an indifferent manner- but he couldn't wave this thought away. The Panther King had made up his mind,

"Do I need...to get out the duct tape?"

The Professor froze, as did the other weasels on mention of that hellish word. Slowly, the Professor lowered his hand, his face oddly blank. He was raging on the inside, they where sure of it.

"...Good." The Panther seemed satisfied by the silence, then held out a large hand towards the three weasels standing at the side. They all looked ready to have heart-attacks. "Now..."

The Professor didn't turn his head just yet. The Panther did, however, and his large bright eyes focused on the trembling, smallest weasel hiding behind the Tallest one. "...He will be...your assistant." He said in his rumbling voice.

_Oh dear GOD kill me now...!_

He surely wouldn't have to.

The Professor has slowly, slowly turned to look at him, eye wide and blazing in glare that could surely kill small kittens and wilt flowers. He found himself locking eyes with the mismatched pupils. The Professor looked like he was going to explode, and it would have been less scary if he'd been ranting. But no, he was perfectly quite, staring deep into his shivering soul.

_He's gonna kill me, he's gonna kill me, he's gonna kill me..._

The Tallest Weasel promptly fainted behind them.

...

Kriplescap threw down his tools with a loud clank, scowling. Never had he been so angry that he couldn't even form words to express it in. He felt like he'd been stung hundreds of times on the inside, he was that insulted. That Panther had clearly taken days to think this absurd idea over, this insulting idea...that foolish, brainless, unknowing, mangy _feline._

With a loud huff he sat back in his chair, arms folded over his lean chest. His blood was boiling as he mulled over this. The duct tape he would avoid, as always, but this...this was long term, not some little task he would get over and done with...

He sneered, finally looking at the trembling form huddled in the corner. After dragging the petrified boy back to his lab, he hadn't known what to do with him. Usually when lost puppies like him found their way across his path, he found some sort of use. An irritating part of that Panther's idea was, however, that he couldn't kill this little annoyance just yet.

And what use was he? His sneer only grew when he looked at the quivering, silence-struck boy in the corner. He was utterly useless by the look of him, and he had no brains whatsoever. He'd never had need for an assistant- he'd had his legs severed from his body, along with losing his arm and eye to boot- he'd had no need for a servant still, and certainly not now!

"Vell...he should have some use..." He rasped to himself, rubbing his hands together slowly. Maybe he could 'assist' him with some experiments...yes...

He turned to the young weasel at last, hands together- and instantly the youth cowered away.

"P-please, Professor, I...!" His voice was little more than a squeak. The Professor smirked a bit. A little fun was always nice assistance.

"Don't vorry, Vittle Guard. Ve'll make sure you are of use, no?"

"...I'll t-try, sir..." He managed to whimper, trying to hide behind that oversized helmet of his. The Professor snatched it away from him and tossed it out the window without another word. The younger weasel watched it go, blinking.

"I'll keep you alive for now." The Prussian weasel said bluntly, eyeing him, "But I varn you..if you annoy me..."

He left the threat open and turned away. The small guard weasel breathed out, leaning against the dank wall in slight relief. He wasn't dead, not yet. He found his brain slipping away- and realized that he was about it-

The scientist ignored the audible sound of the boy collapsing in a faint. He eyed his worktable. "I hope for your sake, also, zat you can keep secrets..."


End file.
